Clicca qui per la versione italiana
After 10
years, I’m finally returning to an Expo—my fifth—after Hannover 2000, Zaragoza
2008, Shanghai 2010, and Milan 2015. I skipped the last two: one in a rather
inaccessible location (Astana 2017), and one during the pandemic (Dubai 2021).
What’s new this year is that many pavilions can be booked in advance (I’ll
later find out that, of these, some can only be visited with a reservation,
others also without, though with long lines); but we didn’t manage to book a
single one. There were three rounds of reservations: the first, two months earlier,
which we didn’t use because we didn’t have tickets yet; the second, a week
before, we tried, but lost all the lotteries; the third, the day before, and by
then nothing was left.
So we
arrive (me and my two children) at the gates on the first day, knowing that
many pavilions will be off-limits to us, but that always happens—especially the
host country’s pavilion, which is usually inaccessible. Entry is smooth: they
hand out umbrellas for the sun, which are supposed to be just for the entrance
line, but my daughter keeps hers for the entire day (on the third day we’ll
discover that the bin where we found them was actually the one to return them).
The first pavilions we encounter, those outside the elevated ring that
surrounds the area, are all by reservation (among them, the Japanese one);
among the few exceptions is the one dedicated to women, which we skip because
it shows a 30-minute queue—even though I point out it's not much.
The first pavilion we visit is Portugal’s, after waiting nearly an hour in
line: not very large, but interesting and dedicated to the sea, as you’d expect
from that country.
We had
considered eating at the Portuguese pavilion’s restaurant, but it’s already
almost 2 p.m. and the kitchen has closed. We eat in a nearby food court, with
lots of stands, almost all Asian: it’s crowded, but we find seats. On the way
out, we look with curiosity at the big Turkmenistan pavilion, but the queue
puts us off. Instead, we visit Bahrain’s: nothing special, but it gives an
overview of the country and its history, with a focus on the pearl tradition.
We reach
one of the pavilions we were most looking forward to—the “Nordic” one, which
includes the country where my son lives, Sweden, along with Denmark, Norway,
Finland, and Iceland. It turns out to be the biggest disappointment of the
Expo: small, lacking any narrative thread, and treating five countries with
many differences (and fierce rivalries) as if they were the same. I recall that
in Milan, the pavilion for Sweden alone was at least four times bigger.
Things go
better with Czechia (which is now the official name): one of the most original
pavilions—a tower you climb via a spiral ramp, full of curious modern artworks.
You can even have a duel with puppets with swords, controlled from below. At the top,
there’s a bar: we have a beer (and take photos, see below). We skip China and
Kuwait due to long lines and continue with Brazil, which does have a bit of a
wait, but we get in after about half an hour. The first hall is all
white—apparently meant to resemble a rainforest—and at first I think that’s it
and say, “nice, but what does it mean?” Then I discover there are two more
halls, with photos and videos, very interesting.
We get back where we start, have to skip Austria and Switzerland since they’re reservation-only, and
finish with Colombia, which probably turns out to be the most interesting of
the day, offering an overview of the country from wildlife to literature.
Before leaving, we go up briefly onto the elevated ring, but we’re too tired to
walk along it. It’s about 7:30 p.m. and it’s getting dark—there’s no daylight
saving time here.
Nessun commento:
Posta un commento